


Something Spoyce

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-26 06:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Immediately post "Something Blue" Joyce wants to talk to Spike. Alone. About this engagement business.





	Something Spoyce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Velvetwhip (Gabrielle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielle/gifts).



> This is for velvetwhip who requested some Spike/Joyce, with a jealous Buffy.
> 
> Sorry I'm late again. I can only blame myself and debauched birthday celebrations. Hope you like it!

“Joyce!” Giles peered through a narrowly opened front door. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you…”  
  
Joyce looked over Giles’ shoulder. “Is that Spike, tied to that chair?”  
  
Giles cringed. “It’s… it’s not what it looks like.” He stepped aside and let Joyce enter.  
  
“Now you’re making me wonder what it looks like. I came to talk to Spike, actually,” Joyce said, clasping her hands in front of her.  
  
Spike barked out a laugh. “Weren’t expecting that, were you?” He affected a pitiful expression. “He touches me in dirty ways, Joyce.”  
  
Giles reddened and sputtered, but Joyce took it in stride. “I sincerely doubt that. Spike, I wanted to talk to you about your engagement to my daughter.”  
  
Spike’s eyebrows rose and he looked a little scared. Giles sighed with relief. “I’m happy to say that issue has been resolved.”  
  
Joyce looked from Giles to Spike and back. “Resolved? By tying him to a chair?”  
  
“He’s tied to the chair because he’s a dangerous vampire. The engagement had nothing to do with that.” Giles rubbed his temples. “There was a spell. I’m sorry you even found out about Buffy’s unfortunate, twenty-four hour engagement.”  
  
“So it’s over?” Joyce looked at Spike now.  
  
Spike fluttered his eyelashes. “She didn’t give my ring back. That was a cherished memento of the first biker I killed.”  
  
Joyce gave him a stern look.  
  
“All right, first biker in the eighties. In America. At a concert.”  
  
“I was just about to move him to Xander’s,” Giles interrupted, and grimaced because, like the entire conversation, the sentence meant nothing without a great deal of explained back-story. “What I mean…”  
  
“I’d still like to talk to Spike, if you don’t mind,” Joyce said. “Alone.”  
  
Giles started toward the kitchen, stopped, gestured at the door, then sighed. “I’m about to have company over. Which is why I was hoping to get rid of Spike, for the time being.”  
  
Joyce nodded and headed straight to untying Spike’s ropes. “He can come with me.”  
  
Giles was, again, unsure what to do with his hands and gestured helplessly. “He’s still an unrepentant killer.”  
  
“I think I know what I’m doing, Rupert. It’s not the first time I’ve had Spike over,” Joyce said. “Though… who tied this?” She looked with consternation at the ropes.  
  
With a sigh, Giles stepped forward to lend a hand.  
  
***  
  
Twenty minutes later, Spike and Joyce faced each other across the island in her kitchen, mugs of tea in hand. Joyce stared in shock at Spike. “That’s terrible! They could have done anything to you.”  
  
“Oi! What they did do was pretty terrible.”  
  
“Of course.” Joyce put her hand over Spike’s. “And you can’t hurt ANYONE? Have you tried, I don’t know, rats and chipmunks?”  
  
He looked down at the quavering reflections in his tea. “So there’s my pride out the window, to boot.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Spike. It must be just awful. Still, it’s no reason to rush headlong into a relationship with a woman a hundred years your junior.”  
  
“It really was a spell, Joyce. She really isn’t my type. Not by a mile.”  
  
“Well, forgive a mother for wanting to make sure. I like you, Spike, I do, but you’re not son-in-law material.”  
  
Spike tried to look annoyed to cover the pleasure at Joyce saying she liked him. “I’ll have you know I would be a bloody fantastic son-in-law.”  
  
“Before you killed the neighbors?” Joyce raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Well… I…” Spike cleared his throat. “I can’t kill ‘em now, can I? Stupid chip.”  
  
Joyce laughed. “You’re not very good at being evil. I suppose that’s why I like you.”  
  
“Oi!”  
  
Joyce got up to re-fill her mug and saw Spike’s was full. “Do you want something else?”  
  
He relinquished the mug gratefully. “Ta. Don’t really do tea. Had to stomach gallons of the stuff when I was alive.”  
  
Joyce searched the cupboard over the sink. Spike took an appreciative look at her backside. “Got any more of that cocoa?”  
  
“All out. But I have chai?” She turned and held up a tin. Spike scowled. “General foods international coffees?”  
  
Spike’s expression turned hopeful. “Mocha or French vanilla?”  
  
Joyce held up the chocolate-brown tin and they reached a smiling, nodding accord. As she poured a fresh cup of hot water, she said, “Really, I don’t see why a vampire would date a teen-ager. The age difference alone! What would you talk about?”  
  
“Bein’ a vampire’s a bit like being a teenager, I suspect. We don’t follow rules, endanger everyone’s life and limb, and think we know everything.”  
  
They shared another smile. Joyce set a fresh mug in front of Spike. He took it and said, “Really, though, you and I can talk about all kinds of things, and I’m just as astronomically too old for you.”  
  
“True, but you aren’t trying to date me.”  
  
Spike set down his mug and gave her his best coy smile, eyelashes lowering just that right amount. “Maybe I am.”  
  
“Oh, be serious”  
  
He tilted his head, looking even more flirtatious. “Now, why would you think that was a joke? You’re a gorgeous woman, Joyce.”  
  
She leaned toward him and said, conspiratorially, “I have crow’s feet and cellulite and mom-hair.”  
  
His hand slipped around her forearm. His fingers were smooth and silky, brushing gently up to her wrist and taking her hand. “Gorgeous crow’s feet, gorgeous cellulite and gorgeous mom-hair,” he said, and brought her hand to his lips.  
  
“Now I know you’re joking,” Joyce said, her voice breathy.  
  
Spike leaned forward and placed a kiss on each blushing cheek before turning her lips to his.  
  
It was the hottest, steamiest kiss she’d had since, well, since the Band Candy incident, and that had ended up with some distinctly un-mom-like behavior. Joyce found herself clinging to him, drawing closer. She stopped and pushed back. “Wait…”  
  
Spike looked adorably put-out. “Wait, what? Buffy’s staying at the college, isn’t she?” He picked Joyce up and pulled her into his lap with a surprising, sudden show of strength that sent a thrill of excitement through Joyce. “While the cat’s away and all that!”  
  
“I hardly know you,” Joyce protested half-heartedly.  
  
“Yeaaaaah, and you do it so well,” Spike said, and started nibbling her neck in a way that sent her entire left side tingling. She felt his hand pushing her skirt up her thigh.  
  
She quite suddenly couldn’t come up with a reason to stop, though that might have been a result of lack of oxygen to the brain, since they were kissing again, and Spike’s hands were sliding over her rear, and she didn’t feel like a middle-aged, cellulite-ridden woman at all now, but young and vibrant and wanted. Were those really her thighs that felt so firm and strong under his hands?  
  
He pulled her flush against him and rocked his hips forward, the hard denim-encased line of his cock digging deeper into her than should be possible without removing more clothing. She gasped and started to say something about moving to the bedroom when she was picked up and dropped on the kitchen counter. The air left her lungs as Spike tore her panties clear off her. She had a second to start to be angry – those were Victoria’s Secret! – but then he plunged two fingers into her heat, cold and hard like the lines of his beautiful face, and all she could do was pull him closer as he lifted her leg against his side and left a wet, sloppy hickey on the inside of her knee.  
  
There was a bit of wrestling to get her hands to his belt while he continued to torment her with pleasure and spread her out on the kitchen island, kissing and nibbling all parts of her and doing sinful things with his hands that had her feeling she’d melted apart, but finally she got a good grip and had his flies undone in seconds. His cock popped out, thick and heavy and velvet-soft after rutting against the rivets of his jeans. He gave her thighs each one more lick and took the hint, pressing himself deep into her, his wet fingers now gripping her hips, pulling her hard and flush.  
  
There were, she reflected as he lifted her entirely off the island and fucked her up and down on his cock with his hands, definite advantages to a supernaturally strong lover. Then there was no time for any thought other than “more” and scrambling to get her clothes off because she was burning up. Then she had to get his clothes off, so she could feel his skin rather than the cloth wrinkling and dragging in sweat against her. At last she was running her hands up rippled muscle that rose and fell against her. He was gasping great breaths like he wanted to breathe her in, lips and tongue traveling everywhere they could reach.  
  
They ended up on the floor by the refrigerator in a tangle of semi-clothed limbs. She didn’t realize she’d screamed as she came until she noticed her throat was sore. She felt a bump on her head and looked up at the ceiling. “How’d we get here?”  
  
“Cellulite, my arse,” Spike licked the sweat from her inner thigh. It tickled. He stopped her from lifting her leg away and kissed it.  
  
She rolled her head to the side. “Oh no! My kitchen! Spike, we…”  
  
But then he was nuzzling down between her legs and she decided the kitchen could wait.  
  
***  
  
Buffy breezed in the back door, dropping a backpack on the kitchen island. “Mom?” The word echoed emptily through the house. She frowned, noticing that the kitchen was a bit of a mess. She picked something up off the floor – half a ceramic handle. “Mom?” Buffy called with more urgency and searched for her mother.  
  
Joyce came running down the stairs, tying her bathrobe as she came. Her hair was dripping. “Buffy! What is it? I wasn’t expecting you.”  
  
Buffy sighed with relief. “When I saw the kitchen I thought you’d been demon-napped.” She held up the blue ceramic curve in her hand. “What happened to my Snoopy mug?”  
  
Joyce looked at the mug handle like she’d never seen anything like it before. “Oh, my. Um… it must have… I mean, I think it was on the counter and I was… reorganizing. Yes. I was reorganizing the kitchen and I got a little carried away.”  
  
“Oi!” Spike sauntered down the stairs two at a time, a towel very precariously hanging from his hips. “Water’s getting cold, Joyce.”  
  
Buffy’s jaw dropped open while Joyce tried to push Spike back up the stairs, only to give up when his towel started to fall off. Sighing, she re-fastened it around his waist with a tighter-than-necessary twist. “I’m sorry, Buffy, but now is just not a good time.”  
  
Spike leered cheerfully. “I thought it was a pretty good time, myself. Hey, Slayer – where’s my bloody ring?”  
  
“My mom and my…” Buffy flailed her hands, unable to come up with a word. “Gah! Eye bleach, I need eye bleach!”  
  
“Bet you do,” Spike said, smugly running a hand down his bare abs and watching her eyes follow until he hooked his thumb in the towel.  
  
Blushing bright red, Buffy snapped her eyes back to her mother and said, “Mom, I wanted to talk about this guy problem I’m having. But I can see you’re busy. BYE.” She turned and ran.  
  
Joyce turned and gave Spike a dirty look. “Was that really necessary?”  
  
He leaned on the banister and let his towel fall. “Just want her to know the engagement’s really off. Now come on,” he took Joyce’s hand and tugged her to him. “We still have bubbles left to pop.”  
  
Joyce laughed, knowing that pretty soon the bathroom was going to be in the same state as the kitchen. But really, she didn’t mind.  
  
THE END


End file.
